


Critical Mass

by misaffection



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Porn Battle XI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 16:19:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While most girls get flowers and taken to restaurants, she gets naquadah-powered gadgets and whisked to distance parts of the galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Critical Mass

**Author's Note:**

> Sam/Any, power, secrets, imagination, gifts

The stars reach out forever. Sam knows what infinity means, but seeing it is something else entirely. Centre of attention is the pulsing mass of gas: once a sun, now rapidly going through the last stages of becoming a supernova.

She is light-years from Earth, but no one knows where she is. She supposes at some point they might realise that she's not at home, unless he gets her back beforehand. Like the last time.

It should bother her, this affair with one of their greatest enemies, but it doesn't. Mostly because he presents her with the most impossible gifts – while most girls get flowers and taken to restaurants, she gets naquadah-powered gadgets and whisked to distance parts of the galaxy to see things no human eye has.

The wonders of the universe surpass her imagination.

And the reality of him is better than fantasy.

His hands skim down her sides and she smiles, drops her head back to rest on his shoulder. A sigh escapes her and she watches the star pulse through lust-narrowed eyes.

“How much longer?” she asks and Baal lifts his right, watch-less wrist. She chuckles and slaps his hand down. “You know what I mean.”

The soft fabric of his coat shifts over her skin as he shrugs.

“Soon.”

Given he's two thousand years old, she suspects his version of “soon” is vastly different to her own, but in truth she's in no hurry. She's comfortable, warm and he's being attentive enough that her nipples are taut. Desire thrums alongside the naquadah in her blood, both reacting to his closeness.

She twists in the loose circle of his arms and smiles at him, before leaning in for a slow, exploratory kiss. Her eyes close involuntarily when he slides fingers into her hair and she gives a soft moan. Their foreplay has trundled on for at least an hour and she feels the need to up it a notch.

But he pushes her back with a grin. “You'll miss the show.”

“Hmm, no. Not if we do this...”

Unhindered by clothing, she pushes his coat open and slides across in reverse. Being very intelligent, Baal gets her point immediately and grasps her hips, lifting her up. A whimper flutters out as he pushes up, in.

“Oh, that so works,” she mutters.

“I... concur.”

The rough breathlessness is why Sam keeps doing this: the ability to bring a godling to his knees is a powerful aphrodisiac and one that is terribly addictive. It's a rush that is almost as arousing as his talented hands.

Almost.

She moans and arches her back as those hands cup her breasts. He kneads her flesh and pinches her nipples, sending frissons of pleasure darting along her nerves down to her clit. It feels very good.

“Here,” she says, and guides a hand down. “Please.”

He chuckles and grazes her neck with rough kisses, but his fingers delve into the fur of her sex and she grinds down as he circles the throbbing nub of nerves. She doesn't need to direct him further than that: he was pretty good at it in the first place, and they've had lots of practice since then.

For a while, she loses herself in the sheer pleasure of riding him as his fingers work her clit. Climax is a slow build up, waiting for the spark that will detonate it. Supernova.

Sam gasps and forces her eyes open. The surface of the sun whirls with violent gas storms. Solar flares arch and break off, throwing plasma into the surrounding space. It's wondrous, but also terrifyingly beautiful.

“Are we safe?” she asks Baal.

“I have protection, if that's what you mean.”

She rolls her eyes. “Funny. No, I meant will the shielding hold.”

“Be interesting if it doesn't.”

“Baal.”

“Yes, it will and yes, we are.” He tweaks a nipple sharply. “Really, Samantha, you should know me better than that by now.”

Should she? Even as she watches the sun in its final moments, as the beginnings of her climax ripple up her spine, she wonders whether she does. It's true that she trusts him, to a degree. She even cares somewhat for him, but she's not sure how much that is reciprocated.

She doesn't know if he's really invested in this affair or merely playing her as he plays a long game. She's been doing her best not to ask, but now it spills out before she can stop it.

“Do you really care about me?”

His fingers still against her clit. The hand on her breast lifts off and she closes her eyes as he caresses her hair. He nibbles at her earlobe, then murmurs, “Absolutely not.”

She jolts and he laughs. Spans her waist with an arm before she's even thought about scrambling off him. She wriggles, succeeding only in causing a delicious friction that sends waves of pleasure through her outraged fury.

“Samantha.”

He purrs her name and she shudders. No one else can say her name like that, no one else can cause the same effect. She doesn't believe in fate or one true love or such froth, but she does think she has become primed for him and him alone.

She knows no one else is ever going to touch her as deeply as he has.

“I hate you,” she sighs, giving up the fight before it's even started.

“So I noticed. Here.” And he slips a finger into her cunt. “Does that help you hate me a little more?”

It does. She bites back a groan and gives up on her anger. She'd much rather feel the sensations that he causes. Which, now she's full of cock and fingers, are intense to say the least.

She rocks frantically, so. Damn. Close. He supports her, his free hand on her hip, guiding her movements smoother. Pulling her in harder, pushing himself in further. His fingers press on her g-spot and his palm grinds her clit. It's too much and when he slams his cock in, she breaks, sobbing and moaning as wave after wave engulfs her.

When normality finally returns, she finds herself sideways across Baal's lap, his coat over her shoulders. She rests her head on his shoulder, engrossed in the circle his thumb draws over her hip bone.

“Sam,” he says, and his voice rumbles with an emotion she's not heard before. She fully expects a declaration of undying love as she looks at him. He gazes into her eyes, smiles softly, then says, “You missed the supernova.”


End file.
